


Merry and Bright

by amine



Series: Delinquent AU [5]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 00:59:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8946868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amine/pseuds/amine
Summary: "Because of this false sense of security, Alfred is in no way prepared to deal with the inhuman horror that Arthur presents him with one day while he’s studying for his finals—an ugly Christmas sweater."Now with a second, pure fluff chapter.





	1. Christmas Sweater

**Author's Note:**

> This was also part of a larger AU, but it seems to be the only Christmas-y story I wrote, so here you go. Happy Holidays!

It is the kind of thing that is born of nightmares—the kind of thing that only happens in movies because it is far too horrifying to be real. Alfred had felt safe in the knowledge that it was something that would never happen to him. What a naïve fool he’d been. 

Because of this false sense of security, Alfred is in no way prepared to deal with the inhuman horror that Arthur presents him with one day while he’s studying for his finals—an ugly Christmas sweater.

He’s very used to Arthur making him things—he has a few scarves and hats that Arthur knitted for him that he wears regularly because they’re a lot nicer and a lot warmer than anything he’d bought before. Those, however, are not the brightly colored thing dug from the deepest pits of despair he holds in his hands while Arthur beams at him.

He stares at the reds and greens and whites with patterns of reindeer and Christmas trees and he feels faint. Smack dab in the middle is a large snowman smiling at him—mocking him and laughing at his pain. He wants to punch it in the face.

“Well? What do you think of it?”

Alfred looks up to see Arthur smiling at him, and any other time seeing that smile would make him melt and probably willing to do anything. That would normally be the case, but he’s too busy thinking of what he could have possibly done to deserve such a punishment to be affected.

He wonders if he should lie for Arthur’s sake because he’s an idiot in love and he hates to disappoint Arthur. He also wonders if he should tell the truth that there are very few things he can think of that would be more horrifying than wearing that sweater even just around the apartment. Either way something is lost.

So instead he stares dumbfounded and silent at Arthur, hoping that the matter will somehow be dropped without incident if he waits long enough.

Arthur waits a moment, looking eager and hopeful, but when the silence continues his shoulders droop and the smile is replaced with a crestfallen look. He lowers his head and shakes it, and when he lifts it again Alfred freezes.

He knows that look. He _created_ that look. If he wants Arthur to agree to something silly he pulls out the kicked puppy look, which is exactly the look Arthur is giving him. Almost exactly, except for the fact that Arthur brings a genuine despair to it. He has the thought of what a master of a craft must feel like when the student surpasses them.

“You don’t like it. I tried so hard, and your grandmother gave me the pattern, too…”

Alfred chokes. So not only is he letting Arthur down, but it’s his _grandmother’s_ design. It’s like all of the stars and planets are in alignment to kick his ass. His hands shake as they hold the sweater and he fights off the urge to scream in frustration. He finally groans and pulls the sweater over his head. 

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it! I was just…speechless!” Alfred says, struggling not to choke or let his voice crack and reveal that he’s actually lying through his teeth.

He makes a mental note to avoid all mirrors so he doesn’t have to see what he looks like. He already feels like kicking his own ass just by wearing it. Arthur smiles again, though, and this time that fluttery feeling of happiness returns to Alfred’s heart. He pushes down the horrible feeling that if anyone else sees him like this he’s never going to hear the end of it and gives Arthur a smile.

“Good, it fits. That should keep you warm while you’re studying for your finals, hmm?”

Arthur looks very pleased with himself, but Alfred stomach immediately lurches.

“Oh, I don’t know. I was going to go to the library and it gets pretty hot in there, you know?” He laughs, but even he knows it’s a sad, unconvincing kind of laugh. Luckily Arthur doesn’t seem to notice that part.

“Oh? I thought you said you were always getting cold?” Arthur raises an eyebrow at him and Alfred grimaces. So much for that.

“Ah ha, oh yeah…”

In his mind he thinks of what the best route would be to get to his car without anyone seeing him. Then he’ll humor Arthur while also not having to wear the horrible sweater beyond the hallways and garage of their apartment building. He can put it back on again when he gets home and pretend that he was wearing it the entire time he was studying. He’s pleased with that plan, but it’s a short-lived victory because Arthur speaks up shortly after he’s made his decision.

“I think I’ll come with you, I have some studying of my own to do.”

All of the stars and planets truly are in alignment to kick his ass. Alfred can think up several ways to get out of this horrible mess, but in the end he decides to just accept his fate. It seems that no matter what he does, Arthur finds a way around it, so he might as well give in.

He manages to hide the sweater behind his coat, but once they reach the library he doesn’t have that luxury anymore. To his horror Arthur picks a table that is fairly out in the open instead of the out of the way places he usually prefers.

The entire time he tries to seem small and invisible, but because the world is out to get him he swears he sees just about everyone he knows in the library that day. Every time a cute girl walks by and looks at him and his ugly sweater with the utmost amusement, Alfred wants to crawl under the table and die. At one point a couple of girls who flirt with him every time they come into the bookstore pass the table and notice him. They start giggling to each other and Alfred groans. He slams his head against the table as he thinks of how they’re going to bring up the sweater the next time he sees them.

“Are you getting tired?” Arthur asks, and Alfred lifts his head to look at him.

Arthur doesn’t look amused, so it can’t be that he’s taking pleasure in his pain. Actually, it seems as though he hasn’t even noticed all of the humiliation and suffering, which is somehow even more irritating than Arthur laughing at him like everyone else. Even so, he nods.

“Yeah…guess I am. We should go home.”

To Alfred’s horror, they don’t get very far out of the library before Arthur turns around and heads back, saying that he forgot something. Alfred tries to retreat to an out of the way place and pull on his coat, but he’s not the least bit surprised when someone yells at him from across the street.

“Hey Jones, what’s with the sweater? Your mom buy that for you?”

He almost yells back that no, his boyfriend made it for him, but he has a feeling that would just make the situation even worse. He whips around, but doesn’t see who it is.

“Shut the fuck up!”

He hears laughter just as Arthur returns.

On the way home, Alfred tries to think of what his most viable options are. He wonders if changing his name and moving to a different country would work, or if pictures of him are already plastered all over the internet so he’ll be recognized no matter where he goes. He’s still stewing in his thoughts when they get back to their apartment, so he nearly crashes into Arthur standing still in the hallway.

“You can take it off now, by the way.”

Alfred shakes his head back into awareness, and he blinks at Arthur. “What..?”

Arthur looks him over from head to toe, expression impassive. “The sweater. You can take it off. You’ve hated it the entire time, after all.”

“What? You _noticed_?” Alfred gapes at Arthur, following after him as he heads for the kitchen.

“How couldn’t I? You hated every minute of it. Especially when those girls passed by the table.”

Alfred steps in front of Arthur before he can reach for his teapot and stares at him.

“Wait, so you _knew_ and you didn’t try to stop me?”

Arthur pushes Alfred to the side and turns around, leaning against the counter. “You could have always said no.” 

“Yeah, but you _made_ it for me and you said you got the design from my _grandmother_ and I didn’t want to disappoint you, so—”

“I didn’t make it,” Arthur says, interrupting him. Alfred freezes and slowly turns to stare at Arthur, who shrugs. “Your grandmother gave me a design, yes, but I’m still working on that. The sweater you’re wearing was supposed to be a joke, but it was only funny until we got to the library and you looked like you were going to crush yourself under one of the bookshelves.”

Alfred’s eye twitches and, before Arthur can turn around, he grabs Arthur’s wrists and pushes him back against the counter. Arthur’s eyes widen, but his expression relaxes immediately.

“You did this on _purpose_? I’m going to get shit for this for probably months and you were just sitting there and letting it happen?”

“And? What are you going to do to me?”

Alfred can almost swear that Arthur looks excited that he might be punished somehow. He doesn’t want to think of what the implications of that might be. He tightens his hold on Arthur’s wrists.

“I’m gonna…”

Arthur’s eyes get brighter, and Alfred’s anger starts to fade into exasperation that Arthur’s actually enjoying this. Of course he’d never hurt Arthur, and he knows that Arthur knows this, but that Arthur might be a little—Alfred stops that thought. He shouldn’t be surprised. He changes tacks. 

“I’m gonna…take you outside and throw you into the snow!”

“What—no!” 

Arthur’s eyes widen and he starts to struggle, but Alfred easily picks him up and tosses him over his shoulder. Arthur flails as Alfred carries him out of the apartment to the stairwell.

“Put me down! Damn it, Alfred!”

At that moment Alfred is thankful that Arthur doesn’t weigh much and is very easy to carry despite his flailing, and he ignores the squawking and horrible names he’s being called on his way down the stairs and out to the back. He finds a nice deep pile of snow and tosses Arthur into it, and when Arthur sputters and sits up, Alfred drops an armful of snow on his head. He starts to laugh, but then Arthur grabs his leg and tugs, making him fall backwards into the snow.

Alfred sits up quickly and throws more snow at Arthur, who scowls and flings some back. Alfred finally stops and bursts out laughing. Arthur just shakes his head, but his scowl fades.

“You realize that this is only the beginning and I’m going to get you back good soon?” Alfred asks with a grin.

Arthur stands up and brushes himself off. “As long as it doesn’t involve mistletoe.”

Alfred stands up as well and runs in front of Arthur to look at him. “What? What’s wrong with mistletoe?”

“It’s annoying the way you wave it in my face like I wouldn’t just kiss you anyway. I think we’ve been together long enough that you can feel comfortable kissing me without using a weed as an excuse.” Arthur gives him a pointed look and walks by him.

Alfred’s smile widens and he runs in front of Arthur again. “That so? Well. That’s great! Mistletoe everywhere! You’ll think you’re safe and open a cabinet to grab your tea and suddenly mistletoe! And I’ll be there to kiss you while you wonder where the hell the mistletoe came from!”

Arthur’s face turns red and Alfred starts to laugh again. When Arthur shoves him back into the snow, Alfred pulls him along, still laughing.

Later, when Arthur is shivering and glaring into his cup of tea, Alfred is quick to offer him the ugly sweater to warm himself up.


	2. Mistletoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I lied. I forgot that I wrote another super fluffy Christmas thing last year that goes along with this. Nothing but pure fluff and mistletoe, ha ha.

From inside the house, Arthur hears a string of curse words, which he can only assume is the result of Alfred dropping the string of lights he’d been decorating the outside of their house with. Arthur chuckles to himself, shaking his head as he continues to dig through one of the “Christmas” boxes for things to decorate the interior with. Alfred had insisted he could take care of the outdoor lights on his own, leaving Arthur with multiple boxes of decorations.

Some, or rather most, of their decorations are painfully kitschy, but then Arthur has never been very good at telling Alfred no when he wants to buy a gaudy reindeer figurine or a light-up singing Santa. He just has to try his best to hide the kitsch with the tasteful. 

At the bottom of one of the boxes is an item that makes Arthur pause. He pulls it out and blows off the dust accumulated from over a decade of non-use. He twirls it in his fingers and scoffs.

Mistletoe.

He remembers years of Christmases with Alfred dangling it in his face, expecting kisses every time he did. He remembers that Alfred eventually took the hint and packed it away to be forgotten. How a parasitic plant like mistletoe ever turned into a Christmas kissing tradition is beyond him.

Arthur hears a “fwump” followed by another string of curses, meaning Alfred fell off the ladder into the snow. He chuckles again, smiling fondly towards the window. It steadily fades as he turns back to the fake mistletoe, which he stares at in silence. His chest tightens.

He’d taken such Christmases for granted because he’d had Alfred every day, every year. They’d started traditions, of course, but he hadn’t thought too much of them when he could see, kiss, hold, talk, and make love to Alfred whenever he’d wanted.

He’s used to the time apart—they both are—but it _has_ made him appreciate little things that he and Alfred do together even more.

Even silly little things like Christmas kisses under mistletoe.

* * *

Alfred grumbles audibly as he steps inside, pulling off the various pieces of winter gear to be dumped on the floor for later. When he shakes the remaining snow out of his hair, his mood brightens as he looks around the room at Arthur’s handiwork. The decorations look great, but that’s to be expected when it comes to Arthur.

Arthur himself is not around, though the boxes are still on the floor. A whiff of chocolate catches his attention, and he follows the smell to the kitchen, where Arthur sits sipping at a cup of tea. He gestures idly at the mug across from him.

“I assumed you’d want hot chocolate.”

Alfred’s mood further brightens as he slides into the chair across from Arthur and grabs the mug. “You’re the best, sweetheart. Decorations look great, by the way.”

“Mm.” Arthur’s eyes flicker to something above Alfred’s head, but Alfred doesn’t think anything of it.

That is, until Arthur continues to look above him as they sit with their drinks, and then Alfred frowns.

“Is there something on my head?”

Arthur shakes his head, though he still looks up for a moment. “No, there isn’t.”

Not convinced, Alfred rubs his head, expecting to find a tangle of bulbs from his fight with the lights outside. There’s nothing, making Alfred turn and look. It’s then that he catches what is hanging above the kitchen door, and he freezes.

Mistletoe.

Honestly, he’s in his 30s and he’s been married to Arthur for over a decade, but the sight of the mistletoe makes his heart skip a beat in giddy delight. How can Arthur still be so adorable after all this time?

He turns back to Arthur with an almost painful grin on his face, and Arthur’s cheeks darken in color.

“Is that an invitation, sweetheart?”

Arthur lowers his teacup as he coughs and shrugs, looking away. Alfred continues to grin as he stands up and holds his hand out for Arthur to take. Arthur looks at it and, after a moment, takes it. Alfred sweeps him up and under the mistletoe, pausing only for a moment to grin at him before kissing him.

He cups Arthur’s face, sighing when he feels Arthur do the same to his, and softly strokes Arthur’s cheeks with his thumbs. The kiss is soft and easy, and when he pulls away, he smiles down at Arthur.

Rather than bluster or grumble, Arthur lowers his arms to wrap around Alfred and pull him close. Arthur buries his face in Alfred’s shoulder, making Alfred blink before he also wraps his arms around Arthur. He lowers his head to kiss Arthur’s ears and whisper into them.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?”

Arthur slowly shakes his head and inhales deeply. Alfred relaxes, understanding.

He also lowers his head to Arthur’s shoulder and breathes in deep. Arthur smells like cinnamon sticks, hot chocolate, tea, and the slightest hint of dust. It’s comforting, and Arthur is warm, making Alfred close his eyes.

“I love you. I really do.” The words are muffled against Alfred’s shoulder, but they are enough to make Alfred’s heart do another giddy leap.

He grins as he pulls Arthur that much closer. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

It’s then that Arthur starts grumbling, but it only makes Alfred laugh. Still, Arthur doesn’t put up much resistance when Alfred cups his chin to tilt his face up for another kiss.


End file.
